


My Annabel Lee

by mggislife2789



Category: Criminal Minds, Spencer Reid - Fandom
Genre: Edgar Allan Poe References, F/M, Honeymoon, Inspired by Edgar Allan Poe, Reader-Insert, Scotland
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-20
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-12-04 11:37:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11554395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mggislife2789/pseuds/mggislife2789
Summary: Inspired by and including the poem by Edgar Allen Poe, Annabel Lee.Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters or their original stories. This is only for fun. It's where my brain goes after the credits roll. No copyright intended. Better safe than sorry. ;)





	My Annabel Lee

“Any regrets on the honeymoon choice?” he asked. Your husband of four days pressed a kiss to the crook of your neck as you sat between his legs staring over the cliff toward the ocean. The horizon line was speckled with purples, pinks, oranges and yellows. It had taken some convincing that this, Orkney, Scotland, was the perfect honeymoon destination for the two of you - but there were absolutely no regrets. 

Turning into his embrace, you couldn’t help but smile. His long brown hair was waving in the slight breeze whipping up off the cliffs.”Nuh-uh,” you said, pressing a kiss to his lips. “It didn’t seem like best honeymoon destination, but I think you’ve convinced me.”

How did he convince you? Well, you asked what there was to do, and he said that “doing” would involve you, walks on the cliffs and the occasional pop outside the room for food. Gorgeous cliffs and uninterrupted sexy times with your new husband? That was pretty much all the convincing you needed. 

All of a sudden, he popped up from behind you, screamed for you to stay exactly as you were and presumably started taking pictures of you. He’d been addicted to using his old camera lately. “If you get to take some pictures, I get to take them too!”

“But I hate pictures of myself!” He called.

Instead of staying put, you stood up yourself and ran after him, jumping on his back and grabbing the camera from him. “I don’t care. I wanna take pictures of my husband too. Go sit.”

You gave him a peck on the lips before he sat down. Just as the sun was nearly set, you finished taking your own pictures. “Ready to go back to the hotel now?” you asked.

Spencer lifted you up, stealing his camera back and then grabbing the sides of your head, so he could bring your lips to his. The sea breeze swept up around you both causing your hair to fly all over. “Let’s go,” he said, running toward the hotel. Your husband had the funniest run in the world, but he was just so cute, that his run was adorable too. He was even more finicky about his hair than you were, and his hair was always a perfect mess.

Once you caught up with him, you grabbed his hand and swung it back and forth as the Kirkwall Hotel came into sight. A beautiful Victorian style building overlooking the harbor, it was affordable, grand and yet picturesque all in one. “Will you read to me when we get back?” you asked.

Reading to each other had been a tradition ever since you started dating three years earlier. Whenever he was away on cases, you made a point of reading to each other at least once every couple of days. You’d read everything from the sexiest poems of Pablo Neruda to the most romantic passages from classical literature and everything in between, but there was one that was always your favorite, and Spencer knew what you were going to ask for before you got to speak. “Annabel Lee?” he asked.

“Yes, please,” you laughed, walking into the hotel and giving a shy wave to the receptionist.

Spencer pulled out his keycard and slipped it into the door as you hugged him from behind, playfully nibbling at his t-shirt. Living out of a suitcase halfway across the world without a care was fine by you. You reached into your suitcase and pulled out a silk nightie that ended just below your butt. He’d read to you and then you’d undoubtedly end up hot and heavy on either the floor, the chair by the window or the bed - it didn’t matter to you. His voice was like porn and you wanted to listen to it all day. 

Your husband pulled on a pair of flannel pants that hugged his cute butt, making you wonder if you wanted him to read to you first - but you did, you definitely did. “You staring at my ass again?” he asked.

“Yup!” He sat in the chair at the window and you climbed into his lap, closing your eyes as he began the poem. 

“It was many and many a year ago,  
In a kingdom by the sea,  
That a maiden there lived whom you may know  
By the name of Annabel Lee;  
And this maiden she lived with no other thought  
Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,  
In this kingdom by the sea:  
But we loved with a love that was more than love–  
I and my Annabel Lee;  
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven  
Coveted her and me.”

You didn’t ask him to read this one often. It took a lot out of him, because unlike with everyone else, speaking like he was reading out of a textbook (which considering his brain he probably was) with you, he’d put his whole heart into reading it, claiming that he imagined you as Annabel Lee and the thought of losing you was too much for him. Hence, why you only asked him to read it to you on special occasions - your honeymoon seemed one of them. 

“And this was the reason that, long ago,  
In this kingdom by the sea,  
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling  
My beautiful Annabel Lee;  
So that her highborn kinsman came  
And bore her away from me,  
To shut her up in a sepulchre  
In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in heaven,  
Went envying her and me–  
Yes!–that was the reason (as all men know,  
In this kingdom by the sea)  
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,  
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.”

Here is where his voice would start to break. As he spoke it (not needing to read because hey, eidetic memory), he ghosted his hand over the silk nightie you wore. You reached back to caress his cheek and turned into his chest, listening as his heartbeat picked up, outpacing the words he spoke.

“But our love it was stronger by far than the love  
Of those who were older than we–  
Of many far wiser than we–  
And neither the angels in heaven above,  
Nor the demons down under the sea,  
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul  
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee:

For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams  
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;  
And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes  
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;  
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side  
Of my darling–my darling–my life and my bride,  
In her sepulchre there by the sea,  
In her tomb by the sounding sea.”

“Thank you,” you said, kissing his tear-stained lips as he smiled at you. 

He chuckled softly at how happy the poem made you, pulling you into his embrace as you turned around to kiss him. As you deepened the kiss, you placed your knees on either side of his thighs and lifted the nightie up. “Here?” he asked. “People might see.”

“We’re on the top floor,” you giggled. “And maybe we should give them a show?”

“God, I love you.”


End file.
